A Distant Planet
by Cececat
Summary: Here, two stories (15 years apart) are told. The story of 10-year-old Magenta Morbius adjusting to this strange planet her family crash landed on and the story of 19-year-old Columbia adjusting to her life at the strange castle. This is an attempt to make a film based on cheaply-done 'B' movies into 'hardcore' Sci-Fi. (Please Read/Review!)
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own _The Rocky Horror Picture Show._ I just devote way too much of my free-time to it!**

 **A/N: This is an attempt to turn a film parodying cheapily done b-movies into legitimate Science Fiction, like _Star Trek_. It's somewhat inspired by _Forbidden Planet_ (which, as we know, Anne Francis stars in... well, got second billing in).**

 **The song Magenta sings is _Galadriel's Lament_ , a poem from _The Lord of the Rings_. It's in Quenya (the Middle-earth equivalent of Latin). **

* * *

My strange friendship- and, later, romance- began with a paper cut. How odd that sounds! A week or so after I'd moved into the castle, my roommate Magenta got a paper cut whilst reading a magazine.

Because of this, I learned something very interesting.

"Sod it," she muttered, as the cut began bleeding.

As one would expect, the paper cut only mildly annoyed her. Out of mere politeness I decided to help her find a Band-Aid for it. When I moved closer and actually saw the cut, however, I began to panic.

"Magenta! Are your sick or something? Your blood… its green!"

"Obviously." She looked almost amused at my reaction.

"But, blood is red… isn't it?" I asked.

She sighed. "Iron-based blood is red. My blood… it's copper-based. Copper-based blood is green."

"Really?"

Magenta chuckled. "Really. What would you say if I were to tell you I'm not from England after all, but a small colony on a planet about 14 light-years away?"

"Is that the sort of thing you're likely to say?"

"Well… its true," she replied with a sigh.

"Wow!"

We stood there in silence for a moment.

"I probably shouldn't have told you all that. I'm too truthful for my own good," she said.

"Well, I probably would've been more freaked out if I hadn't known. At least there's a real reason that you're blood is green."

She chuckled. "That's also why we wear all that makeup. To hide the green tinge of our skin."

And that's when I found out that my hosts were aliens.

* * *

15 Years Previously...

 _Magenta Morbius, age 10, awoke with a start to the sound of an alarm. Something was definitely wrong. Red lights on the ceiling were flashing. The girl got out of her little bed and ran across the room._

 _There was a door that led to her father's room. She opened it… yet soon realized that the small room was totally devoid of life-forms._

 _To her horror, the ship began to shake. The artificial gravity stabilizer seemed to be failing. Things began falling of shelves._

 _"Daddy!" she shrieked. Where could he be…?_

 _Over the loudspeaker, a crewmember said something about the warp core being critically damaged. That meant radioactive material could- and probably would- start leaking._

 _Before they'd allowed her to go with Daddy to the far away planet, Magenta had been taught what to do in an emergency like this. There was at least one 'safe room' in each area of the ship. In fact, the nearest one was right below Daddy's room. All she needed to do was hide there until someone came and told her it was over._

 _And so, she quickly found the trapdoor. After a moment of fiddling with buttons, she managed to open it and descend into_

 _She wished her brother could be sitting next to her. Riff always knew what to do!_

 _In a pathetic attempt to calm herself down, she hummed an old song. A lullaby Mama often sang before she'd died four years ago. Mama claimed the lullaby was magic. A spell that calmed you down and helped you fall asleep when you were really scared._

 _Of course, 10-year-olds know magic isn't real… but Magenta still sang it._

 _"_ Ai! laurië lantar lassi súrinen, yéni únótimë ve rámar aldaron! Yéni ve lintë yuldar avánier… _"_

 _Mercifully, the girl soon fell asleep. Maybe the song really was magic._

* * *

 _Hours later, Magenta woke up. Again._

 _Of course, this time she lay on the cold metal floor instead of a bed. And the sound that woke her wasn't loud and scary. No, it was her brother's kind voice._

 _"Magenta, wake up," he said softly._

 _Slowly, she sat up. "Hmm? What's going on?"_

 _"The ship has landed," he replied with a humorless smile._

 _"What?"_

 _"The ship has crash landed on a planet," he explained._

 _"Where's Daddy?"_

 _"He's fine. In fact… he's one of the only survivors."_

 _"Who else made it?" Magenta asked, now quite terrified._

 _Riffraff took a deep breath. "The two of us and that bratty son of the rich family. Wesley, or whatever his name was."_

 _"What are we going to do?" Magenta whispered, crying._

 _"Honestly, I don't know. But it's going to be okay."_

 _"Will we go home?" she asked softly._

 _"Maybe one day. Dad found an old abandoned house for us to live in while we wait. It'll be okay, I swear."_

* * *

 **A/N: Hopefully this isn't too strange.**

 **Please Review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own _The Rocky Horror Picture Show._**

 **A/N: Today we had school for once. It hasn't snowed at all, and probably won't for a while. That means I'll only update daily... or even less often.**

* * *

 _Indeed, there was an abandoned building near the site of the starship's crash._

 _Magenta's father, Hal Morbius, decided it could be easily adjusted into a place to live. It hadn't truly fallen into ruin yet. The windows were boarded over and the garden overgrown, yes. But the floors weren't even close to caving in._

 _"We're going to need to fix a few things here and there, but I think it'll be fine," Hal told his children._

 _They were sitting in some old chairs he'd found, in a room that was probably once the living room. The other survivor- a bratty 16-year-old named Wesley- was at the site of the crash looking for his favorite GameComputer._

 _"What about food?" Riffraff asked. "And other supplies?"_

 _Hal sighed. "If the replicators still work, we'll use them for most stuff. Though I don't think we've got enough of the PowerCards in storage. Though we're bound to run out of those, too."_

 _"What will we do then?" Magenta asked._

 _"We'll need jobs, won't we?" Riff said with a sigh._

 _"Yes. I've no idea how the currency works or if there even is a currency. In fact, I'm not ever sure what language they speak! But we need to assimilate into the culture somehow," Hal replied._

 _"What sorts of people live here?" Magenta asked fearfully._

 _"They look like us, thankfully. I think they might be the same species, even," her father explained._

 _The girl seemed a bit less worried now. Her brother, on the other hand, still seemed pretty apprehensive._

 _"How much of the ship's technology still works?" Riff asked._

 _Hal shrugged, surprisingly nonchalant. "Random stuff here and there."_

 _"Including the translators?"_

 _"I'm not exactly sure… though wee could check. I brought all the stuff that seemed salvageable into this house without actually looking too closely at it. Most of its in the front hall," Hal explained._

 _Riff left the room in search of the translators, leaving his father and sister alone. After a moment, she spoke._

 _"You seem really calm, Daddy. Why? We're stuck on this strange planet... forever."_

 _He chuckled. "Well, it's not all bad. Both you and your brother are alive and uninjured after the ship's violent crashed. And it's not like we had much back home. Look on the bright side, dear. It'll be alright. We can start over."_

 _He was right. Back home, they'd been poor. Though Riff was of above average intelligence, they couldn't send him to school. He'd been apprenticed to his father in an attempt to give him some kind of future. An engineer with advanced computer programming skills had at least some chance in life._

 _Magenta suddenly thought of an idea._

 _"Can I go to school?"_

 _Somehow her father seemed quite taken aback. "School? We don't even speak the language of these people!"_

 _"Daddy..."_

 _The expression on his face softened. "If we can. I'll send you to school if we can find a way."_

* * *

I sat on my bed, painting my toenails a delightful shade of pink. Across the room, Magenta was reading a fashion magazine.

"Do you want me to paint your nails, too?" I asked, after a while.

Magenta didn't respond.

That day Magenta seemed very quiet, secretive. Well, she's always like that… but she seemed more so then.

"Are you upset that I found out you're an alien? Look, I don't care that you're not from-"

"It just brought back memories I didn't want to think about," she said coldly.

That was the longest sentence she'd said all day… as far as I knew.

Most of the day I'd spent with Frankie. He'd taken me shopping, claiming that I needed an entire new wardrobe.

"I can't have someone in _my_ house running around in jeans and faded old tee shirts!" he shouted at breakfast.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

"Don't be sorry. We'll go to a few of the shops in town today, and buy you something suitable."

"Okay!" I replied, with false cheerfulness.

I knew I didn't have much of a choice. Not agreeing would be a very idea. For one thing, I didn't want to be kicked out. Being polite to a bastard like Frankie meant food and a roof over my head. And there's nothing wrong with shopping.

Of course, he has a rather interesting sense of fashion. The boutique we went to first was unique (to say the very least).

"You'd look good in that glittery corset," he said, as we went through racks of outlandish clothing.

"You really think so?"

The corset in question was covered in sequins of all different colors. It would stand out anywhere.

I then began to inspect it more closely. Though hard to see amongst the bright sequins, I noticed a zipper in the back. If it didn't fit perfectly, I wouldn't be able to wear it.

"Well? Do you want to try it on?" Frankie asked.

"Okay."

Somehow the corset did fit.

And so, we bought it… along with a number of other items of clothing. Most of it was very colorful, and _all_ of it was glittery. A few short skirts and high-waisted shorts. Most of it was fitted, short (bordering on sluttish, in fact).

The next store we went to sold underclothes. We bought fishnet stockings, two garter belts, and quite a few other things.

When I got home, I tried on one of the outfits

"You look lovely," he said sweetly.

I giggled. For a brief moment, he seemed to mean it.

Then, Magenta called him to dinner. He went to the dining room without another word. I, of course, followed. Every day I ate dinner with him (and often other meals, too). I suppose he would be bored without someone to tell jokes to. Magenta and Riffraff don't eat with him.

I feel like a pet. A cut little dog who's owner buys rhinestone collars and treats for it.

To Frank, I was nothing more than that.

* * *

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	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_**

 **A/N: I've decided that the curse words spoken by the aliens will be in Klingon, from _Star Trek_. Also, has anyone guessed who the person referred to as 'Wesley' grows up to be...? **

* * *

Soon after my incredibly brief conversation with Magenta, I was called to Frank's room. Riff came to get me.

"The master demands your… presence," he told me.

"Lovely," I muttered.

Magenta raised an eyebrow as I left our room. Both of us- actually, all three of us- knew what was going on. Frankie wanted my company for the evening. Hopefully I'd get to go back before morning. The evening before I'd spent in my room, which was better than the nights when I hadn't.

To my annoyance, I didn't get to leave until the next morning. Maybe the castle wasn't worth it.

Later, in our room, I told Magenta about this.

"You're always complaining about it being all awful here when, technically, you can leave whenever you want," she replied coolly.

"Well, if I leave I'll be homeless! And if _they_ find-"

"Just remember that some people have it worse than you," Magenta hissed.

Only later did I realize she meant herself and Riffraff. They didn't even have Earth driver's licenses or anything. Neither of them could survive in the real world.

* * *

 _The first night they slept in the strange house, Magenta shivered and shivered. Though they'd managed to find some blankets, it was still very cold._

 _Her brother would be going into town tomorrow to pick up samples of the native language. If the Translator picked up enough samples, it could piece together a language for them to learn._

 _"I don't know how soon we can get enough audio samples," Hal told his children, as they ate breakfast._

 _Wesley had insisted on breakfast in his makeshift bedroom. Of course, the others had refused to listen to that brat._

 _"What if people here find the device?" Riff asked._

 _"It's got a password. Anyway, we might be able to pick up more dialogue if they take it into their home to inspect. As long as they don't take it too far away for us to receive transmissions from it, it should be fine."_

 _After breakfast, Magenta decided to explore the area around the castle. Her father and brother were busy setting up the Translator and Wesley was… sulking or something equally stupid. Magenta wasn't really sure about him._

 _Hardly an hour later she'd walked around the castle's overgrown garden at least twice. There really wasn't much there to look at._

 _So, she decided to walk down that nearby road._

 _Daddy had said that the beings here looked just like them, so why not? She wouldn't stand out too badly. And it would be interesting to see the difference between her home planet and this strange place._

 _Both seemed to include green plants, at least._

 _There seemed to be a lot of trees around here, in fact._

 _Suddenly, she saw a girl, who looked to be the same age as her, sitting on a bench and reading a book. The letters upon the book's cover were in an alphabet unfamiliar to Magenta. The girl herself had long, braided brown hair and wore a brightly winter coat._

 _"Hello," Magenta said, without thinking._

 _The person didn't speak her language, so why bother saying anything?_

 _Without even looking up, the girl said something Magenta assumed to be a greeting. And then the girl did look up. She asked a question of some kind (judging by her tone of voice)._

 _"I don't know," Magenta replied._

 _The girl, understandably, looked quite confused. A four-wheeled vehicle parked on the side of the road nearby. Never had Magenta seen such a machine before! Of course, they had similar vehicles at home. It actually seemed quite similar to what Daddy used to drive to work in, Magenta soon realized._

 _A woman, presumably the native girl's mother, got out of the vehicle. Then the woman said something to her daughter, and gave Magenta a look of annoyance._

 _Clearly, something was wrong._

 _Magenta walked away at that point. In fact, she ran. She ran all the way back to the castle. When she got back, she ran right to the room that had become their living room. Her brother and her father were there, going over some plans of theirs._

 _"What's wrong?" Riff asked, quite surprised to see her burst in like that._

 _Magenta smiled. "Nothing is wrong. I met one of the people here. A girl just my age!"_

 _"How did you speak to her?" Hal asked, raising an eyebrow._

 _"I didn't. It's just nice to see somebody who's not older than me," Magenta replied, blushing slightly._

 _Her father chuckled. "Well, dear. Maybe you can talk to her when we get this translator working."_

 _"When will it be working?" Magenta asked, quite eager to really speak to the people of this strange world._

 _"Well… we've actually got a few transmissions in already," Riff replied._

 _Magenta beamed. "Oh! Can we-"_

 _"But we have to figure out how to speak the language. We don't know how words are supposed to be said," Hal explained with a sad smile._

 _"If Wesley would actually do any work, we'd probably be done sooner," Riff muttered with a scowl._

 _"Now, now. I agree that Wesley is a spoiled brat who never helps in any way, but lets at least not be rude to him behind his back," Hal said._

 _"I'll never be nice to that freak. That p'tak doesn't care about anyone except himself!" Riff shouted._

 _"Please don't curse in front of your sister!"_

 _Without another word, Riffraff threw down the pen he'd been taking notes with and left the room._

 _"Now that Wesley's parents are gone, you're his dad," Magenta said, after a moment._

 _"Hmm?"_

 _"He doesn't have parents any more. You're the only grown-up around here. And if you're his dad you can tell him what to do! You can make him work," she explained._

 _Hal chuckled. "Why, that's an interesting thought. Though keeping two teenage boys out of trouble is a lot more work than just one. Ha! I could convince a family of terrans to adopt him."_

 _"Terrans?"_

 _"I've decided to call this planet 'Terra'. So, I call the people here 'Terrans'," he explained cheerfully._

 _Maybe being stuck here wasn't too bad, Magenta decided._

* * *

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	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own _The Rocky Horror Picture Show._ Some bastard (who's _not_ Richard O'Brien) ****at 20th Century Fox does, which is why they're making that bloody awful remake.**

 **A/N: I'm really sorry that I didn't finish this earlier. And I haven't even got an excuse...**

* * *

 **In the movie, I can't help but notice Magenta's accent vary by scene. Sometimes it's a bad attempt at a 'vampire accent', sometimes it's something sort of British, and other times it's vaguely American... I _think_. ****The out-of-universe explanation is probably that Patricia Quinn was too spaced out on drugs/alcohol/whatever to notice or care (this was the 1970s, after all). I want to invent some kind of in-universe reason for the varying accent.**

 **At this point in the story, Magenta's bizarre accent isn't supposed to be specific to any real area of the real world.**

 **By the way, things in not in **_italics_ **are what they're saying in English. Hopefully that isn't too confusing.**

* * *

 _Soon, they had enough data to start attempting to learn the native language._

 _The main problem was the grammar. Every language differs in grammar. So, they tried copying full sentences. Mostly just greetings and ways of introducing themselves to the Terrans._

 _Magenta had the most trouble._

 _All her life she'd been unable to learn a language different from the one she'd been raised speaking. Well, save for that half-forgotten nameless dialect spoken by specific ethnic group of which her family belonged to. When people immigrated from the main planet to a colony, they often brought little traditions like that. But she'd grown up hearing that._

 _Her father wrote a greeting out phonetically and was trying to help her sound things out._

 _"See, sound it out…_ Hello _."_

 _"_ Heello _," the girl repeated._

 _Her father sighed. "Good enough. Now, say:_ 'hello, my name is Magenta' _."_

 _"_ Heello, my nam i' Magainta _."_

 _"No, that's not quite right._ 'Hello, my name is' _\- a nice 'sss' sound there-_ Magenta _."_

 _"_ Heello, my nam easesss Magainta _."_

 _"Maybe we shouldn't translate your name just yet," he said after a moment._

 _"Maybe," she agreed, blushing slightly._

 _A few hours later, after lunch, they tried again._

 _"So, when you first meet someone, you greet them. Then you ask how they are," Hal explained to his daughter._

 _"I know that!" Magenta replied, rolling her eyes._

 _Her father chuckled. "Of course you do. Now, you've got to learn it in Terran. Say:_ How are you _?"_

 _"_ How arrrre yew _?"_

 _"Ah, well. That's good enough. The words '_ good _' or '_ well _' that means they are having a good day. That's what you should say if they ask you," Hal explained._

 _"Fine," Magenta replied simply, not wanting to try to speak that odd language again._

 _Suddenly, Wesley entered the room. He sneered at Magenta and Hal Morbius… even though the latter was better educated and older than him. Even the former was more 'important' than Wesley, since none of them had any money now, because she was cleverer in a number of ways._

 _"What do you want?" Magenta asked, glaring at the older boy._

 _"Nothing, really," he drawled._

 _He smiled a smile that would've charmed anyone over a certain age. Luckily, Magenta still saw boys as 'icky'._

 _Wesley's only virtue was his looks. Not that such a thing is actually a virtue (according to a number of people). If I may, dear reader, I'd like to describe his physical appearance._

 _If only there were any young ladies nearby, his dark brown eyes would've enchanted the poor dears to death. His dark hair fell nearly to his shoulders (partially thanks to months without a haircut). Though his face was somewhat tan, he still had a rather gothic look to him. Perhaps it was because of the air of mystery about him? His face also had a distinct look to it, a look that gave him an omnipresent air of haughtiness... something seen upon the faces of the snobbiest aristocrats of any planet._

 _"Why are you in my study?" Hal asked, glaring at the young man._

 _"Well, I heard you were trying to learn the language that these primitive beings speak. If you don't mind I'll join in on your little, ah, lesson. I would also like to learn to speak to them," Wesley explained sweetly._

 _"Why? What are you up to?" Magenta asked, glaring childishly at him._

 _"Nothing, of course. I just wish to be able to properly speak to our pathetic neighbors. It'll be useful for us all to know the local language, since we'll clearly be stranded on this Gods-forsaken planet forever!"_

 _Though he seemed quite annoyed, Hal began to play back various sound clips and show Wesley phonetic spellings._

 _The young man's pronunciation was perfect on the first try. He soon learned quite a few useful phrases. This made Magenta very angry._

 _"How do you get it right? Are you cheating?" she shouted._

 _"I've always been good with languages," Wesley said simply, giving Magenta a look of contempt._

* * *

Sometimes, when Frank was busy doing... whatever he does most of the time, I'd spend the evening relaxing in my room. Usually, that involved painting my nails or talking to my roommate. The second time one of those evenings happened, I began asking Magenta about her home planet.

"Hey, Magenta?" I said, just as I was putting away the bright pink nail polish.

"Hmm?" she replied, not even bothering to look up from what she was reading.

"What's your real name? I mean, the name the called you on your home planet."

She gave me a Look. "What do you mean by that? Why don't you think my name actually is Magenta?"

"Well… isn't it a nickname? Anyway, I didn't think they spoke English on your home planet."

"We translated it," Magenta explained simply.

"Really? Your parents actually named you that?"

At this, she rolled her eyes. "Aren't there people in your world named after words? People called 'hope' or 'faith'?"

"Yeah… but I don't think there are people named after colors," I replied.

"Aren't there people called 'scarlet'?"

"Yeah…"

"And you're parents named you after a movie company, so-"

"No, they didn't."

"I thought you said-"

" _They_ didn't name me that," I snapped.  
That's where our conversation ended. I wish I hadn't been so rude to her. It's not like any of it's her fault.

I like Magenta. She's a nice person, if you ignore the strangeness. Ha! It's like that show I watched as a kid, _The Addams Family_. They were so unconventional that they seemed almost villainous… but soon enough you realize they care more than 'normal' people.

Wait… when I say 'they' do I mean the Addams Family or the aliens I live with? Now that I think about it, I'm not sure.

* * *

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	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own _The Rocky Horror Picture Show._**

 **A/N: I'm sorry that there isn't anything about Columbia in this chapter.**

 **By the way... in _The Day the Earth Stood Still,_ Michael Rennie plays an alien who uses the false name 'Mr. Carpenter' at one point. That's where I got the name 'Michael Carpenter'. **

* * *

_Months and months went by._

 _Magenta soon understood the native language very well. Of course, she still had trouble with pronunciation. But that wasn't really important. There were other problems that needed more attention._

 _For one thing, they were running out of supplies._

 _"We need jobs," Hal Morbius said, at breakfast one morning._

 _"Do we all need jobs?" Wesley asked, raising an eyebrow._

 _"Everyone but Magenta," Hal replied._

 _"Why don't I need a job?" the girl asked._

 _"From what I can tell, children are supposed to go to school until a certain age. It will look suspicious if you have a job. Anyway, it might be illegal for a child your age to work."_

 _"Our technology is clearly superior to theirs. Can't we just sell some scraps of the ship for money?" Wesley asked, hoping to avoid working._

 _Riff, who'd been trying to keep from saying anything, finally cracked. "Of course not! That breaks rules we all swore by before leaving home. And it's wrong. They won't understand how any of the computers work. Anyway, some of it's still contaminated with radioactive material. These people don't have any way of curing-"_

 _"Please, son," Hal muttered._

 _Though Riff stopped talking at that point, he still glowered at Wesley._

 _"What sort of jobs can you get? Will you work in shops or something?" Magenta asked._

 _"I'm pretty sure we'll work in shops. That's all we're qualified for, I think. Though we still don't know much about the economy here…" Hal replied thoughtfully._

 _Suddenly, a slightly crazed look appeared on Wesley's face. "Do they have a theatre? That's not real work and I was in a few school plays when I attended D. Gray's Academy for Aristocratic Young Men."_

 _"Well…" Hal said hesitantly. "They haven't actually got that sort of theatre- in this town, at least. There's this thing that's like a HoloStory but less interactive. Instead of acting as part of a prerecorded story, you sit in an audience and watch. Also, it's on a flat screen. You could get a job as one of the people selling the tickets or the food."_

 _To Wesley, that didn't sound like much work. And it sounded fun._

 _And so, after breakfast, they all went into the town. Hal wanted his daughter to stay behind, but she didn't like the idea of being alone in the old castle. It was a bit creepy. Especially since they'd only cleaned up one wing of it. The rest was all dusty and cobwebbed._

 _Previously, Magenta hadn't been to the actual town. She'd gone back to the bench where she'd met the girl once or twice. Yet she'd never actually seen anyone (save for the first time)._

 _Meeting more Terrans would be exciting, decided Magenta._

 _They walked to the town. This took quite a while. By the time they actually got there, Wesley's complaining had put everyone in a rather bad mood. Riff almost punched Wesley at one point, in fact._

 _Technically it wasn't a town. More like a collection of shops and offices with a few miles of suburban neighborhoods next to it. Rows and rows of identical, pastel-colored houses…_

 _Thankfully, the area with the shops lay between the castle and the rows of houses. That meant they didn't have to walk through the streets of eerily similar buildings with those disturbingly perfect lawns out front. If they'd had to walk near that, Magenta would've been too afraid to ever go near the place again._

 _Though it was nearly 1960, the people of the town still had the mindset of your average early 1950s Americans. Racism was still in vogue, and nobody had even heard of the concept of homosexuality. Anyone 'too foreign' was suspected of being a commie._

 _All in all, it wasn't as pleasant a place as the locals seem to think._

 _And so… Magenta, Hal, Riff, and Wesley walked down the main street of town. None of them knew what evils lurked beneath the façade of respectability._

 _Soon enough they realized that you don't just get a job by saying you want a job, even on this primitive planet they called Terra._

 _Luckily, a hardware store they walked past had a sign out front saying they needed people to 'help around the shop' for '2.44 dollars per hour'. Since none of them were that familiar with Terran money, they weren't sure how much that was._

 _"Do you think you could apply for a job there?" Magenta asked, pointing to the sign._

 _Her father nodded. "I suppose so. Why don't I go in and ask about the job? You kids can wait out here."_

 _"Actually, can I go in? I think they're more likely to give a kid a job," Riffraff said thoughtfully._

 _"Fine," his father replied after a moment._

 _So, Riff entered the shop._

 _At the counter sat a man in his 60s. He smoked a cigarette and read a newspaper._

 _"_ Hello, my name is Michael Carpenter. I saw a sign outside saying you need help in the shop here _," Riff said._

 _The man looked up. "_ Well… we need someone to mind the shop. Somebody to stand here and be in charge of the cash register and everything. What's your name again _?"_

 _"_ Michael Carpenter _."_

 _"_ Age _?"_

 _Riff thought about this for a moment. Should he lie or not? His father had said that Terrans age at about the same rate as people of his planet. What harm could saying his actual age do? Yet people were considered adults at 18. And, being quite tall, he could probably pass for even older than that._

 _"_ I'm 18 _," Riffraff said finally._

 _The man stared at him for a moment. "_ I can tell your lying about that. Well, it doesn't really matter. As long as you don't cause any trouble for anyone, you're fine. Not one of them juvenile delinquent boys that you see in the papers, eh _?"_

 _"_ No, sir _." That seemed like the right response. Riff wasn't actually sure what a 'juvenile delinquent boy' was._

"Well, that's good. As long as you don't go causing trouble, you can work here. Starting tomorrow, I think."

"What's your name, sir?"

"Mr. Benson," _the man replied with a kindly smile_.

"What time should I be here tomorrow?"

"Shop opens at 9:30. If you're here at 9:15, you should be fine."

 _And so, Riff had a job. A moment later he went outside to share the news with the others._

* * *

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